Molly held on to her smile determinedly. “I can’t wait to see them,” she said, though she couldn’t help wondering if she would still be living here next summer. Would she have found another place by then—or had Kyle been right when he’d accused her of being afraid to strike out on her own? All those years she’d fussed about everyone making decisions for her—had she really allowed them to do so because she was secretly afraid of making choices for herself?
Darn Kyle for making her doubt herself, she thought with a sigh and an impatient shake of her head. For taking away some of the joy in the simple, mostly carefree existence she’d been living. For making her want things he couldn’t—or didn’t want to—offer.
Her cousin B.J. called after the break. Wiping her dirty hands on a towel, Molly sat in a folding chair to take the call, noting that the shadows were getting longer as late afternoon bled slowly into early evening.
“Is there anything I can do to help there?” B.J. asked, as so many others had.
“No, we’ve got it all under control. Just be here tomorrow. And don’t forget you volunteered to bring a couple of bags of hamburger buns.”
“I haven’t forgotten. Is there anything else?” They chatted a few more minutes, and it was impossible for Molly not to notice how happy the newlywed B.J. sounded.
Lucky B.J., Molly thought, unable to suppress the tiniest pang of envy. Through her job at D’Alessandro Investigations, B.J. had been dispatched almost five months earlier to track down another elusive former foster boy—Daniel Andreas—to invite him to the party. She had found the undercover federal agent, all right— and during the ensuing adventure she and Daniel had fallen in love.
Daniel had followed B.J. back to Dallas, where they’d married in a quiet, simple ceremony. Daniel had joined the Dallas police department as a homicide detective. To keep the party plans secret, they’d had to make up a cover story for Cassie and Jared about how they’d hooked back up.
B.J. could be confident that the man she had brought home with her wouldn’t be leaving as soon as the party was over, Molly thought with a sigh as she completed the call.
A sudden outburst from the far corner of the yard, close to the path that led to Shane’s house made her whip her head around. What she saw made her grab for her cane, her heart suddenly beginning to pound.
A man with a reddish-brown ponytail and a mean expression had a grip on Jacob’s arm. The man was a few years older than Shane, several inches shorter and a good thirty pounds heavier, most of the extra weight concentrated around his waist. He wore a denim shirt with the sleeves torn off, grubby jeans and heavy motorcycle boots. Jacob looked terrified as the man-his father—shouted at him and tried to drag him away.
Glancing quickly around the yard, Molly saw that Graciela was already herding Lucy, Annie and the other boys into the dormitory, though Elias looked as though he wanted to stay and help Jacob. Kelly had her cell phone already pressed to her ear—undoubtedly calling the police—while Shane and Memo, looking determined to rescue the boy, flanked Hayes and Jacob.
As for Kyle—blinking in confusion, Molly looked for him. He seemed to have simply faded into the background, disappearing from view.
Turning back to the confrontation in the corner of the yard, she saw something she had overlooked before— and the sight almost stopped her racing heart. Hayes was holding a knife in his right hand as he kept a cruel grip on this son’s thin arm with his left.
Shane and Memo were also looking at that knife. Shane was talking, and while Molly couldn’t hear his words, she heard the soothing, reasonable tone he was using as he tried to defuse the dangerous situation. It didn’t seem to be helping. Hayes appeared completely immune to Shane’s usual charisma.
She didn’t know what she could do to help. She wavered in indecision, her knuckles white around the simple black cane, her other hand slightly extended in a subconscious appeal for the boy’s safety. She strained to hear sirens or any other sign that help was on the way, but there was nothing.
Hayes shouted something at Shane and waved the knife. Molly choked back a scream, and Kelly talked more frantically into the phone. Her eyes locked on Jacob’s pale, tear-streaked face, Molly found herself praying, wishing there was something she could do. Anything except standing here and watching helplessly as someone got hurt…
Kyle seemed to appear from out of the same nowhere he’d vanished into only moments earlier. Somehow he’d gotten behind Hayes, and he moved with a fierce, furious speed that made Molly gasp. It seemed that one moment he was leaping forward, and the next Hayes was on the ground and the knife was in Kyle’s hand.
It would be a great mistake for anyone to underestimate Kyle on the basis of a few scars and a slight limp, Molly realized dazedly. There was no doubt that this man was still a warrior, battered though he might be.
Shane and Memo reacted instantly to the change in the situation. Shane threw himself on Hayes while Memo pulled Jacob to safety. The faint whine of a siren sounded in the distance, growing steadily louder as it approached.
Seeing Kyle’s expression as he moved toward Hayes, Molly suddenly hurried forward, her cane thumping loudly against the ground. The danger was most definitely not over, she decided.
She caught Kyle’s arm just as he seemed ready to reach for Hayes, whom Shane had pulled to his feet. “Shane has him,” she said quickly. “It’s okay.”
Hayes had been struggling against Shane’s grip, but Molly’s voice made him glare her way. His eyes locked on Kyle’s face, and the fight seemed to fade out of him. He wasn’t drunk enough to mistake the dangerous look on Kyle’s face—or the way Kyle held the big knife poised and ready.
“Look, I just want my boy,” he blustered, shrinking back a bit from Kyle. “It ain’t right to keep him away from his father.”
Kyle spoke in a quiet, clipped tone that made Hayes go a shade paler. “You ever lay another hand on that boy, and I will personally make sure you never hurt anyone again. That clear enough for you, Hayes?”
A spark of temper lit the older man’s bleary eyes. “Who the hell are you? What gives you any right to—”
“Kyle, no!” Molly clung more tightly to his arm as he surged forward again, nearly dragging her with him. “The police will take care of him.”
He didn’t even glance at her, his impassive gaze never leaving Hayes’s face. “I can take care of him more permanently.”
Shane looked at Molly from behind Hayes, his expression both relieved and bemused. “I think we’ll let the cops handle it this time, Kyle,” he murmured. “But thanks for the offer. If this guy ever shows up here again, we’ll gladly take you up on it.”
Hayes sputtered in drunken outrage. “This man threatened to kill me,” he shouted at the two officers who rushed around the side of the house, prepared for trouble. “And this other one is conspiring with him.”